


oh the culture shock

by badbadnotgood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Muggle London
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 22:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15895044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badbadnotgood/pseuds/badbadnotgood
Summary: Harry drags Draco to a Wetherspoons. Against his will, obviously.





	oh the culture shock

“Potter,” Draco spits, barely through the door.

Harry insisted they shake things up for their date night this week. Had Draco known this would be Harry’s attempt at assimilating him to the customs of common people, he would have laughed in Harry’s face. And somehow linked this absurd behaviour back to the state of Harry’s hair.

“You can pack it in being a snob for just one day,” Harry scorns.

Draco snorts petulantly. It’s quite the sight, admittedly. Draco in his pressed cashmere jumper, fitted trousers and polished dress shoes in a _Wetherspoons_.

Harry stands there in his worn jeans, hoodie and converse feeling right at home.

It’s a picture of two polar opposites, like Harry had picked up a very lost and affluent man and brought him to working class civilisation. That being said, Harry’s high ranking job has him on the same social step, but at least he can humble himself.

“Christ,” Draco mutters from behind him, “I can only imagine the amount of spilled pints that have been trodden into this neglected carpet. Did you walk us into the wrong place, Potty? I know it’s been a long week for you.”

Harry bites back a grin and eyes the place for a free table for two. “You’re going to order some food and a drink, and you’re going to enjoy our date.”

Draco, unsurprisingly, turns his nose up. “These people are eating _burgers_. Have we regressed?”

Harry ignores him. “Oh! Found us a table.” He grabs Draco’s hand and pulls him over to the little table near the corner, brightened with warm lights.

Harry loves it here, so Draco can pipe down. It’s the expected kind of busy, muggle university students scattered around, drinking. Families out for meals. Couples having drinks together.

Draco takes a seat hesitantly and surveys the place like everyone there could pass on an infectious disease.

“Would you give it a rest?” Harry groans, kicking Draco’s foot lightly under the table.

Draco plucks a menu from its holder and links their ankles apologetically.

“It’s…”

“Bar food,” Harry cuts in. “Pick something.”

Harry contemplates a few of the pasta dishes and the burgers, knowing he’ll go for his usual fish and chips and be done with it. He looks up at his boyfriend, who’s eyeing the menu like it’s a muggle crossword.

“Right,” Harry says, “I’m going to the bar to order. Have you decided what you want?”

Draco’s eyes bug out of his head. “We have to _get up_ to order?”

Harry pauses mid-way standing. “Did you want me to carry you there?”

“Bloody muggle mannerisms,” Draco mumbles into his menu.

When Draco eventually decides what he wants to eat, they make it to the bar and Draco eyes the drinks on the back wall. He taps at Harry’s waist and nods towards the bottle of pink gin. “Can we get some of that?”

Harry smiles into his pint watching Draco dig into his pasta bake. “I knew you’d like it,” he says, “that’s why I brought us here.”

Draco delicately chews and swallows. “Oh, spare me.”

Harry shrugs. “Ron and Hermione love it here. Cheap drinks and good food. Cosy.”

“It’s fine,” Draco says, more interested in the berries in his glass of pink gin. “I like this.”

They eat quietly, discussing work in small intervals but mostly keeping it to a minimum in favour of enjoying each other’s company.

Harry watches Draco go back-and-forth between food and alcohol. “Don’t go chugging that like juice, unless you want to suffer a few hangover potions tomorrow morning.”

“I feel fine,” Draco insists.

“Until you stand up.”

Draco giggles. It’s sweet like the gin he’s drinking, and _definitely not sober_ , Harry reminds himself.

“That’s enough for you,” Harry decides, slipping the wine glass from Draco’s warm fingers and downing the rest.

“Finished so soon?” Draco preens, looking at Harry from under his lashes.

He’s a doll, Harry thinks. Light hair and flushed cheeks ethereal under cheap pub lighting.

“Have I converted you?” Harry asks.

“Mm,” he says. “I think we should add this delightful pink concoction to our beloved collection.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I meant the place, you dolt.”

“I like being with you,” Draco says easily. “Getting a sufficient meal out of that is a bonus.”

Harry smiles at him. “Well, I’m glad.”

“May we leave?” Draco asks, dragging the toe of his shoe up Harry’s calf.

“Oh,” Harry says, food suddenly a second thought, “Yeah, we can go.”

Draco smiles sweetly and drags him out the door.

“Thank Merlin we’re out of there,” Draco huffs. “Have you looked at yourself after a glass of that stuff, Potter?”

“I-“

Draco’s all over him before he can get a word in edgewise, all tongue and hands. It hits Harry, then, as Draco’s tongue is stroking obscenely against his own, that he’s pressed against a brick wall of a family-friendly pub being _dishevelled._

“Bloody hell,” Harry gasps, getting some space between himself and Draco’s devastating mouth. “That stuff is lethal.”

Draco grins and pulls him along the street. “No Apparating, I’m positively steaming. I think a walk home would be marvellous.”

Harry goes along with it, missing the other half of the pint he didn’t get to finish, wondering how this is his life.


End file.
